


Goin' To People's Parties

by leiascully



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Come As You Aren't Challenge, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-30
Updated: 2008-10-30
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cylon parties are not the glamorous affairs you might assume they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goin' To People's Parties

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline: N/A  
> A/N: Seriously, do all Cylons tell the same joke? Title from Joni Mitchell's song. Written for [**karaokegal**](http://karaokegal.livejournal.com/)'s Come As You're Not Party.  
> Disclaimer: _Battlestar Galactica_ and all related characters belong to Ronald Moore, NBC Universal, Sci-Fi Channel, and Sky One. No infringement is intended and no profit is made from this.

Cavil sighed, swirling the cheap liquor in the bottom of his glass. He would have thought he'd have learned by now. He knocked back the rest of the moonshine or whatever it was and winced as it seared his way down his throat, probably damaging a couple of his silica relays. No doubt he'd have a headache in the morning. One of his brothers sidled up beside him.

"This party frakking blows," said his brother.

"Agreed," said Cavil, holding out his glass to a Centurion. They really couldn't be trusted with bottles or carafes; their motor control wasn't fine enough, but it wasn't as if he was going to go around with a towel over his arm. A Six tripped past, beaming, and he caught at her arm.

"Brother!" she said, and kissed his cheek. "So good to see you."

"You've seen me all over," he said shortly. "You and I are the only models here."

Her smile dimmed a fraction. "Well, yes. That is true."

"You always plan these parties," his brother cut in, "and they're always terrible. Where are all the other models?"

"The Threes are washing their hair." She counted off on her perfectly-manicured fingers; the Sixes were, perhaps, the most vain of them. "The Eights wanted to fly drills, just in case. The Fours and the Fives have a pickup pyramid game every fortnight."

"What about the Twos? Leoben?"

"Please," she laughed, a bright practiced sound, "nobody really wants him muttering in the corner about his little blonde pilot girl, do we?"

Cavil coughed. "The whole line's obsessed. Still, at least it would be some variety. Nobody else has ever been at these parties besides our models."

Six spread her hands in a gesture that would have been winningly helpless if it weren't for the murderous glint in her eye. "What do you suggest, brother?"

He sniffed the contents of his glass and coughed. "Better booze, maybe. Hell, maybe we could hire somebody. Do we have money?"

"A...a human?" Her eyes got wide. Cavil allowed himself a glance at her gratuitous cleavage before he raised his eyebrow in disdain.

"If that's what it takes. They don't seem to have any problem getting drunk and falling all over each other."

She lifted her chin and her lips thinned. "Brother Cavil, I'm not sure what your goal is for this evening."

He lifted his non-glass holding hand, palm toward her. "I'm just saying."

"I'll consider it," she said stiffly. "Next time. Perhaps."

"See that you do," he said, and half-toasted her, and turned away to talk to his brother. She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "You're not the boss of me" and stalked off.

"Want to go pour booze in the hybrid's tank until we end up in the middle of a sun?" his brother asked.

Cavil shrugged "Nothing better to do with my evening. I hate pyramid."

"Proof positive that we will never be human."

"I'll drink to that," Cavil said, and grabbed a bottle from a Centurion, and drank off half of it. He wiped his sleeve across his lips. "Let's go."


End file.
